My Tormented Mind

My Tormented Mind

Torn, torn, torn,
The way my mind is now.
A frowning of my eyes, I can discern the sunlight,
Lining a distant cloud.
There's a long way between me,
and them.
Even with my feet on the ground.

No, no, no, no.
No!
That is not how life should be.
I am sobbing, my heart is torn.
      Yet no-one noticed me.
There are people - animals - standing around,
Gazing with their glaring eyes.

      They just stood there,
      as I cried and cried and cried.

We are humans. And yet we fight.
We kill. We maim.

 
It's okay as long as it's not our children,
It's different! (But it's the same!)

Save me whatever God is up there.
Lord! Yehweh! Allah!
The pain of this world is unbearable. It cannot be tamed.

Torn, torn, torn.
I scratch the concrete floor,
My nails are bleeding now.
I reach for the heavens and beg for an answer.
I cannot hold myself back much longer.
The bullet is still warm.
Metal upon flesh. How? How? How? How?

How?

Victoria McKinney 

All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call;
It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all;
The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll,
And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.

[From 'The May Queen', by Alfred Lord Tennyson]

Rogue Trader

I am currently working on a short-story about a day in the life of a prostitute. And no, although it seems to be a common reaction, I am not and never was in the business of soliciting (ie. selling my body for sex). My work is written purely from a fictional point of view and I have never (knowingly) been friends or acquaintanced with someone in this industry. However, the theme has got me thinking about how we abuse our minds and bodies every day as human beings albeit in different ways.

In a way, I think very few of us can ever truly say that they haven't had to forgo the dignity of our true interests, or passions in the pursuit of making money, which is ultimately what most people consider to be so wrong about prostitution: dignity. In the minds of some the art of making money itself commands respect. Let's face it, if our closest friends and family had sold sex for money then we wouldn't be happy, but if they made loads of money and never told us then we would think they're doing quite well? I mean, I would soon begin to ask where the money is coming from, so they'd have to at least make up a good story.

Money is money. Isn't it?

Rachid Nekkaz

French Businessman to pay all burqa fines. See the article here.

Finally! I am so glad people are beginning to realise what a stupid idea the burqa ban is. When people remove emotion from their perspective on the situation they'll notice the hypocrisy. I am not a Muslim and I do think the burqa segregates women from society (it is not something I would ever wear), however, this act more of a political and racial target than it is about women's rights. The worst thing is that it adds fire to the arguments of ignorant and narrow-minded people.

Women may be 'freer' in today's societies but in gaining that freedom we have taken on other pressures; to be successful career-women, wonderful mothers, housewives and all the while looking like a supermodel. Our society is just as hard on women as some that you'd consider 'backwards'. Sure, our women can drive and vote, but is pay equal for men and women? No! How many modern protagonists in novels are women? Very few. How many of the world's leaders are women? Has France EVER had a female president? No! How many CEO's of the Forbes-100 companies are women? Very few again.

Regime Change - Andrew Motion

Advancing down the road from Nineveh
Death paused a while and said 'Now listen here.

You see the names of places roundabout?
They're mine now, and I've turned them inside out.

Take Eden, further south: At dawn today
I ordered up my troops to tear away

Its walls and gates so everyone can see
That gorgeous fruit which dangles from its tree.

You want it, don't you? Go and eat it then,
And lick your lips, and pick the same again.

Take Tigris and Euphrates; once they ran
Through childhood-coloured slats of sand and sun.

Not any more they don't; I've filled them up
With countless different kinds of human crap.

Take Babylon, the palace sprouting flowers
Which sweetened empires in their peaceful hours -

I've found a different way to scent the air:
Already it's a by-word for despair.

Which leaves Baghdad - the star-tipped minarets,
The marble courts and halls, the mirage-heat.

These places, and the ancient things you know,
You won't know soon. I'm working on it now.'

Richard Haass

I am not convinced by the following report made by the BBC News about 10:30 am today:

Richard Haass, president of the US Council of Foreign Relations, has told
the Financial Times that an international force is "likely to be needed to
restore and maintain order" [in post-Gaddafi Libya].

Hmm...I wonder if protecting oil is something at the top of America's priorities? I'm just sayin'.

Asmaa Mahfouz

The now well-known Egyptian blogger Asmaa Mahfouz has allegedly been detained for making the following comments on her Facebook page about the Supreme Council of Armed Forces in Egypt: "If this judiciary doesn't give us our rights, nobody should be surprised if armed militant groups appear and conduct a series of assassinations because there is no law and no judiciary."

Now, for all those that don't know who Asmaa is, watch this. About a week before the Egyptian revolution in January Asmaa, aged 26, posted this video calling her fellow countrymen and women to protest against human rights abuses in the country and to demand a change in government. To me her language and persuasion is a bit excessive, especially the part where she says: "if you stay at home, you will deserve all that is being done to you". Errr, okayyyy. So, because Godfather 3 (my favourite by the way) was on the night of the revolutions, I deserve it if my family and neighbours are beaten, or worse?

Okay folks, by my own admission I am not so politically active; and I know it is easy for me to criticise sitting here in the 'Western World' where, hey, I have all the human rights I need, right? But, to me democracy is not just about shouting in the streets, or painting my face red and breaking a few car windows in protest (sorry, that's called 'rioting'), it's about choice. I feel mildly political about certain subjects, but have I ever donned my hat, made a twelve-foot banner saying 'Free Palestine' or 'Eggy-Cleggy' (referring to Nick Clegg, the somewhat haphazard deputy Prime Minister)? No. Why? Because that just ain't my thaing. And also because I think that if I want to see change in something, I have to do something about it, rather than just throw hand rockets in the street.

Now I am not averse to studying - even if minutely - the effectiveness of protests. I was apprehensive about the Egyptian Revolution as it was happening and I am thoroughly glad things seem to be moving in a good direction. No doubt, this is a credit to the Egyptians and couldn't have been done without people like Asmaa. However, while some people enjoy being active in politics and shouting out in the streets, sitting at home doesn't mean that you do not love your country, as Asmaa would have us believe. Yes, it was good old People Power that stormed Egyptians to victory in defeating the mighty monster Mubarak, but as I stated during the time, look at the demographics.

Norweigan Terror Attacks

I was really shocked and upset over the weekend to learn about the massacre that took place in Norway. Anders Breivik killed 93 people in a bloody attack that lasted for one hour and also set off a bomb in Oslo. The man behind the attacks was said to have been planning them for years and is also said to have links with European far-right groups. Just a couple of hours before the attack, he is said to have posted a 1,500-page document online outlining his plans for a total 'revolution of Norweigan Society in which he denounced Islam and called himself an anti-Marxist.

Beyond the obvious shock and horror that such a terrible attack should take place and that all those innocent people died, it is even more worrying when we consider the killer's motives - and that there could be more people like him closer to home than you think. My feeling is that there is a group of right-wing individuals who spew out their hate (anti-anything that they don't understand) without consideration of the consequences. Most of the time, these people are associated with being uneducated and bored individuals - but as in the case of Anders Breivik, the evidence suggests that more of them are also coming from educated and so-called 'well-bred' origins.

No matter what one's beliefs, we should never allow a person (or organisation) to spur on hate towards another group (Muslim, Jewish, Christian) etc. in the form of killing. Free speech, with all its inherent complexities, protects us all, no matter where we are from. I hope this man spends a long time in a dirty jail.

Amy Winehouse

RIP AMY WINEHOUSE

Amy Winehouse, the British singer-songwriter, has been found dead in her North London home. She was known for her powerful vocals and her eclectic mix of genres in her music including R&B, soul and jazz. She received extensive media coverage over her mental health issues.

She was last seen performing with her god-daughter Dionne Bromfield at the 2011 iTunes Festival at Camden Roundhouse last Wednesday, where she was a surprise guest. You can see her impromptu performance here.

Scene: Outside Notting Hill Gate Station, London.
I am approaching a man with a gold tooth trying to get his attention.
Me: (clears throat) Do you have a light?
Gold-tooth Man: Yes, darling! Sorry, I was miles away. (Hands me his lighter and I light my cigarette).
Me: Thank you. (I light my cigarette and the light back).

[SHORTLY AFTER, WHILE I AM SMOKING CIGARETTE]

A short Big Issue seller standing nearby with a dog, who is pissing everywhere.
Big Issue Man: Big Issue!
Tall Police-man (approaches him): Can you move your dog please?
Big Issue Man: What's the problem, man, just because I am not English?
Policeman: No, your dog is pissing and shitting everywhere.
Big Issue Man (getting aggressive, looking up to policeman): Hey! If ai was English it wooodn be a problem!
Policeman: Do you want to relax, or we can go and sort this in the station?
Big Issue Man: Racist!
Policeman (losing his temper): No...Me policeman (points to himself). You Big Issue Man (points to man). So shut UP!
Big Issue Man: Okay.
Policeman: Please move your dog.
Big Issue Man: Okay.

Big Issue Man and Policeman walk away together.

The End. :)

I love London.

RIP Lucian Freud

Lucian Freud has died, aged 88 years old. Known chiefly for his thickly impasted portrait and figure paintings, he was widely considered the pre-eminent British artist of his time. His works are noted for their psychological penetration, and for their often discomforting examination of the relationship between artist and model.

Acts of Kindness

London Underground is currently running an exhibition on the Central Line compiled by East End artist Michael Landy (b.1963) called 'Acts of Kindness'. Six weeks ago he asked people to send in short stories about random acts of kindess on the underground. I thought it was pretty cool.

Go here to find out more: http://art.tfl.gov.uk/actsofkindness/readstories/

Samuel Taylor Coleridge - The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

Part I

It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
`By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

The bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
Mayst hear the merry din.'

He holds him with his skinny hand,
"There was a ship," quoth he.
`Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropped he.

He holds him with his glittering eye -
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:
The Mariner hath his will.

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

"The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.

The sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon -"
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.

The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

In Between

Don't hate me just because I am different,
Or because I don't sing the same song as you.
We may not be the same Colour,
Religion, or Age;
But we can share the same view.

So don't reject me because I look different,
Or because I speak in a funny way.
We may speak a different language,
But, halas ana naas kamen.
I am like you come what may.

I breathe,
I sleep,
I wake,
I talk,
I laugh,
I cry.

So do you.

The Sadness of Tomorrow, Today

'Tomorrow be another day', they say.
'And have no thought for the trials of today'.
'Tomorrow be found to find something new'.
Yet they have no desire to show what's true. Not now, anyhow.

So Tomorrow be another day, I think?
The rain may fall, but 'not another drop to drink'.
Or so to Coleridge,
Open your mind to Tomorrow?

I have to. Or else.
Because Today is closed off. In sorrow.

Victoria - 2011